


The Sound of the Bombs Take Me Away Again

by WinterFrost250



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, l'manberg - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, Dadza, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Dream has been through a lot, Dream is a little liar sometimes but thats ok, Dream runs from his past, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I need help writing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Listen I know herobrine is a little cringe, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Romance, Secret Identity, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, Sleepy Boys, Slow Burn, TECHNO STILL ENDS UP AS THE BLOOD GOD DONT WORRY, Techno is a fangirl, War, a road to recovery, dreamnotfound, george is a sweetie pie, just go with it, l'manberg, war guilt, wilbur is a good brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29014632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterFrost250/pseuds/WinterFrost250
Summary: "The sound of bombs ricocheted in his ears.He cradled his left arm to his chest as he waded through the battlefield. No batch of mobs could have prepared any of them for this, this blood bath. Fallen soldiers and wither skeleton heads dotted the ground where Dream stepped. He couldn’t tell where the blood ended and the netherrack started."Dreams name is known in every household and his story is told to every child before bedtime. How the 'Blood God' chosen by Notch killed the God Herobrine. But every time he sees that stupid mask or hears a made up story about his heroism in the war Dream can't help but wish he had died that day a little more each time. So, he runs away. Starts a new life with people who don't know 'Clay'. Somewhere where he isn't haunted by what he's done.[ This fic is incredibly reader favoring- Please comment plot suggestions, this is your fic too ]
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 63
Kudos: 155





	1. Blood for the Blood God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listen I know Herobrine is a little cringe these days but give it a shot

The sound of bombs ricocheted in his ears.

He cradled his left arm to his chest as he waded through the battlefield. No batch of mobs could have prepared any of them for this, this blood bath. Fallen soldiers and wither skeleton heads dotted the ground where Dream stepped. He couldn’t tell where the blood ended and the netherrack started. 

He’d always liked the Nether, casual trips with his friends and trading for goodies with Piglins. His gold helmet had weighed on his head as he narrowly avoided Ghasts. But the Nether had never looked so different in Dreams eyes. Ghasts were the least of his concerns now. 

It hadn’t taken long for Dreams troop to reach the Fortress. Maybe that was when they started to let their guard down. They spent the night before preparing to siege the Fortress. Everything should have gone to plan, Dream leading Notch’s army into the fight. To win the war against Herobrine, who had reigned his terror long enough. They all knew this war would be told for generations to come. The romanticization of it all lulled them into a false sense of security. Dream wasn’t innocent of this himself, though he wasn’t as easily swayed. His nails were chewed raw and his hair tousled from running his hands through it. He had to get his men through this, there was no room for error.

So how had it all gone so wrong?

They breached the first wall, cut down their defenses; robbed them blind. The art of surprise is what gave them the advantage, Herobrine's men never saw them coming. Dream cut down each blaze and wither skeleton that threw themselves at him. His infamous mask sprayed red. His menacing smile coated in the blood of his enemies. It was fitting for his name he had thought, blood for the Blood God. 

As he focused on cutting his way to his target he almost missed the explosion behind him. Dream turned just in time to see his men helplessly in the air upon impact. The Wither had spawned.

Its heads stared into Dream, as one by one it flew off and took out a whole section of his army effortlessly. Like they were nothing more than an inconvenience. Torn between going off the plan and running toward the Wither and leaving behind his men for his target Dream hesitated. His hesitation was enough time for the Wither to send a head straight toward him. Dream just barely jumped out the way before it crashed into the ground. The searing pain in his arm told him that he hadn’t jumped far enough after all. 

When he looked up his vision was clouded with black. His hands coated in soot as he tried to wipe his eyesight clear of the ash that had slipped under his mask. When Dream looked back up he saw his second, Callahan, smile and give him a thumbs up before charging the Wither. He had boughten Dream time and that was all he needed. He just prayed Callahan didn’t die before he made it back. 

He cradled his charred arm to his chestplate as he ran through the battlefield. He pushed himself to ignore the screams of his fellow soldiers and gasps of the dying. He ran over the fallen bodies of his own men and tracked their blood in his footprints. Guilt ate at his subconscious as he sprinted into the hallway.

He broke open the door of the throne room and stood panting as the doors swung back behind him. He pushed his guilt back and forced the screams out of his ears. Dream was now face to face with Herobrine. 

Herobrine was much more calm than Dream would’ve expected. He sat on his throne with a glass of wine in his hand. Legs crossed and arms relaxed, his head lolled over to greet Dream. As if they weren’t both covered in blood, both having just killed moments ago. His golden crown littered with useless jewels and a cape draping over his shoulders. What drew dreams attention to the most was his eyes. The same eyes so many men had faced and never lived to tell about. There were rumours of course, that Herobrine had strange eyes. Some said he was blind or wore a patch across his right eye. No one said anything about blinding white eyes. Ones that bore into Dreams as Herobrine drank from his cup. Eyes Dream had hoped no one would ever need to see again.

“So, you’ve come to kill me?” Herobrine swirled his wine and gave Dream a bored look, “My brother sent a man? Does he want you to die?” 

When Dream didn’t answer he sighed and stood, placing his glass onto the throne's arm. His cape swayed from behind him as he turned to walk down the stairs. 

“You won’t win you know,” Herobrine smiled as he took each step, “My army will cross the portal. I will become king of the overworld. When I do I will kill everyone you have ever loved.”

A wicked smile spread across his face as he stood just feet away from Dream now. Dream was standing in front of a god, a king. This man's words held weight that no others did, his words were a promise. His voice like a sick song, a haunting lullaby. Dream didn’t bother to reply, it wouldn’t do him any good to get a wise word in because this time. Well, this time Dream didn’t know if those would be his last words. He’d rather his last to be the goodbye he had said to Callahan.

So Dream drew his sword and lifted his chin. His netherite sword gleamed from the lavas light. There were only 4 netherite swords in existence, Notch’s Sator, Herobrine's Occisor, Herobrine’s right hand’s Cordus and Dreams. Newly acquired just before he set off. Netherite molds to its owner, changing form and shape to match its user. Powerful and deadly, more so that it can only be wielded by its owner. Dream decided to name his sword Amica after Callahan thought it’d be funny to be cut by a blade named ‘friend’. 

“I will at least commend you on your bravery, Human. Or foolishness, either one I suppose.” 

Herobrine raised his own sword and so it began. 

The sound of netherite on netherite echoed through the throne room. Herobrine moved faster than any opponent Dream had ever faced, stronger as well. But he had expected this, he had prepared to face a god after all. This wasn’t sparing or a little battle, Dream had to win this. The lives of so many rested on his shoulder. So he pushed harder. He kicked harder, swung, dodged, slashed harder than he ever had before. His lungs seized at each swing but no matter how hard he pushed Dream knew he was significantly outmatched. 

‘Its ok if I die here,’ he told himself with a shaky breath.

‘As long as I take him down with me.”

He managed to slash Herobrine's leg and watched the blood run down his leg. Well, he guessed it was blood. Black ooze spread onto the floor as Herobrine chuckled.

“Not bad, too bad that will be the last time you’ll ever scratch me mortal.” As Herobrine lunged for him. Just barely Dream blocked his attack with his own sword and pushed Herobrine off, taking Dream’s mask down with him. Barefaced and out of breath Dream re-took his defensive stance.

“Such a pretty face gone to waste,” Herobrine tutted as he wiped black ooze from the mask in his hands, “I think I’ll keep this if that's ok with you. A trophy like this would do nicely. The humans greatest fighter killed in less than 10 minutes.” 

“Dream isn't it? I need to know what to put on the label. Or would you prefer ‘Blood God’? I hear that's what they've been calling you,” Herobrine's expression hardened as he gripped the mask, white knuckled, “As if you have earned the title as God. You are just as pathetic as any other man, your hubris blinds you.”

Herobrine dropped the mask and crushed it under his feet. 

‘Pretty shit trophy now its shattered dumbass’ Dream thought to himself. 

Herobrine seemed to be filled with a new found rage, shaking the calm persona off. Both of them barefaced as they fought each other once more. Dream could feel the exhaustion rolling into him. Cradling his bones and freezing his veins. He fought through it as he threw another attack at his opponent. The blood he wiped off his cheek coated his hands and caused his sword to slip in this grip at times. Dreams footing was off as well, nerves he put it down on. Time had been ticking by and his swings were getting more erratic as hope dwindled further down. He needed to kill Herobrine, no matter what. It was reckless, he knew that but it didn't matter. He would be ok if Callahan lived long enough to scold his gravestone. 

The adrenaline rushing in his ears and full concentration on the fight distracted him from everything else, he thought he heard the doors behind him open but there was no time to turn and check. 

Herobrine was slowing too even if at a significantly lower rate than Dream but he was grasping at straws here ok? All he needed was one cut through the heart. In theory it should be easy, Herobrine didn't even wear a chestplate.

It was when Dream swung his sword too wide did he realize he messed up. Herobrine took this and slashed at Dreams chest, cutting a jagged line deep across his torso. With clenched teeth Dream clutched his chest on reflex and Herobrine brought down his sword. 

Dream closed his eyes waiting for the hit, the sound of blood, silencing of his mind, the flare of his senses, anything. But nothing came. When Dream did open his eyes he saw Callahans staring back at him. Eyes wide and mouth ajar as Herobrine's sword was holed in his stomach. 

Every sense on high alert Dream screamed and caught the God of guard as he thrusted his sword into his chest, piercing the heart. As Herorbine fell he took his sword with him and now free, Callahan dropped to the floor. 

“NO! No, no, no you’re ok,” Dream mumbled incoherently as he caught his friend in his arms. Blood was now spilling out of his wound too fast. Dream scrambled to stop it with his hands, shirt, anything but the wound was too large for any fix Dream new of.

“Callahan, Cal you’re ok. You’re gonna be fine it's ok.” Dream looked around frantically for help but found themselves alone. He turned to stand and run to get help. To DO something but he felt a hand on his arm.

Dream looked at Callahan then, and he smiled. Callahan's teeth were stained red and his breaths racked his body. Tears fell down Dream's face, he didn’t even remember how it felt to cry.

“You’ll be ok, Cal, you’re gonna be ok.” But Callahan shook his head. He took a necklace off his neck and pressed it into Dreams hand. The metal a mess with blood and smelled so strongly of iron, it was a charm of two swords.

“No, no Callahan I'm not taking this. It's yours, you’re gonna want it back when we get home.” Callahan just smiled and pressed close Dream's hand around the necklace. His breaths were heavier now, and farther apart.

“Cal you can’t leave me please. Not like this, not for me. What am I supposed to do?” Dreams voice shook with the amount of effort not to scream.

“Live.” That was the first time Dream had ever heard Callahan speak.

\-----------

Dream didn’t know where he was going. 

The war had ended last year and Herobrine was dead. Dream was a legend now, people called him a lot more things other than ‘Blood God’. People knew his mask like it was their flag. He was a symbol of the war and a hero, the man who killed a God, though Dream didn't think himself much of a hero at all. 

His shoes dragged themselves on the dirt path before him. He had shed his mask a long time ago, easier to live without the memories when no one recognized him. He clutched his bag over his shoulders and walked and walked and walked. Seeing everything all the time, his mask, the faces from his past plagued him relentlessly. So Dream packed up and moved with no destination in mind. His feet moved on their own and Dream's throat scratched as he swallowed. He didn’t know how long he’d walked.

Then out of the bushes stumbled a teenager with matted dirty blonde hair. Right after him a man burst through the shrubbery and ran to the boy. Dream guessed he had walked for a few days, only severe sleep deprivation would dull his senses this much. 

“Tommy! Holy shit! I didn’t mean to push you that hard, I’m sorry.” The man bent down to help pick up the kid when Dream caught his eye.

“Who the fuck are you?”


	2. Live, Clay.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Tommy!” The man said through clenched teeth he shoved Tommy’s shoulder and turned toward Dream, “I'm sorry for him, he lacks basic communication skills. I’m Wilbur, we didn’t mean to disturb you.”

The man, Wilbur, Dream noted had tousled brown hair shoved clumsily under a yellow beanie and a well-meaning smile. Tommy stared at Dream still, his bright eyes glaring. They seemed harmless either way and Dream really didn't think he could keep walking even if he tried so he gave in to himself.

“That's alright, would you happen to know if there's a town nearby?” Dream scratched his neck and offered a tired smile to the two.

“Oh yeah, we were just on our way home actually. I think there’s some rooms still open in the inn if you’d like uh…” Wilbur raised an eyebrow and Dream hesitated. He thought of Callahan then, just for a moment before he opened his mouth. He had so many names and yet he didn’t know which one was really his own. 

“Oh it’s uh...It's Clay, and thank you that’d be awesome.” Dream set to follow Wilbur as they started off but Tommy was still planted in place.

“Wil! You can’t bring this homeless man into our town! He probably has fleas! He looks dirty can you-” Wilbur slapped a hand over Tommys mouth and offered Dre-Clay an embarrassed smile and they started walking. 

Having a name sparked something new in him. A something that he thought he’d never feel again. Dream was smudged in past regrets and haunted by memories but Clay. Clay was anybody he wanted to be, a new start. He didn’t need to be anybody's war hero or ‘God’. He didn’t need to face the masses of expectant kids and excited adults who thought of him so much more than he was. Dream didn’t need to be...Dream. He didn’t have to face all that he wasn’t, to shake off the mask. Clay smiled to himself then, barefaced and breathless. A small smile that he doubted anyone would even notice but it was there nonetheless.

He was thankful that Wilbur had been kind enough to show him the way toward the inn. Him and Tommy had left a little bit ago, giving a polite goodbye. Well as polite as Clay guessed Tommy could be. Clay set his backpack down on the bed of his room and collapsed next to it. The inn owner, Niki Clay remembered, was nice enough. She was pretty Clay supplied, brown and blonde hair and rosy cheeks. This town was nice, Clay thought, his eyes were already half-lidded. He tried to fight off a yawn but the soft relief of the pillows under him dragged him under faster than he had expected.

\-------------------

He dreamt of the Wither that night, the smile Cal had given him. The screams of his men grabbed at his mind and the bombs echoed in his ears. 

The Wither turned to him, eyes oozing black blood and flashing a brilliant white. Dream couldn’t move, fear etching into his skin and shocking his spine. 

He watched as the head flew toward him, familiar and aching. This time, Dream couldn’t move, couldn't seem to shake away the fear. All the youthful bravery left him then as he watched the Withers white eyes inch closer every second. So Dream closed his eyes, resolved to wait until his death. After all, Dream was never more anything other than a coward. Herobrine would win, take over the overworld and kill thousands all because Dream couldn’t move his stupid fucking legs. His forehead pinched as he closed his eyes so hard it hurt. He waited for the loss of senses, for the explosion of pain, the silence, anything. It was all so familiar but Dream couldn’t remember then, all he knew was that the bombs going off were louder than the gasps of dying men. But still, he felt nothing. 

Dream allowed himself the mercy of opening his eyes and he saw him. Callahan looked at him, smiled at him. The scene changed, swirling and warping. Suddenly they weren’t outside they were in a large room and a sword pushed itself through Callahan's chest. Dream felt the weight in his hand and instinctively moved, yelling as he thrusted the netherite sword through Herobrine's heart. Dream caught Callahan and held him to his chest, hands clutching the wound. Blood slipped through his fingers and he tried to calm the bleeding. Dream whispered reasurances, to whom it was unclear. 

He felt a hand on his arm and Dream looked to Callahan. Everything in him burning with sick unplaceable nostalgia. Callahan pressed a necklace in this hand and curled Dreams fingers around the cold metal.

“Live.” He had told him.

And Dream woke up, cold, alone and unable to let himself cry.

\-------------------

Dream took to strolling around town that evening. Trying to calm his constantly rattled head. He looked around town square, it was smaller than he had ever really seen a town be. Houses dotted the farmlands in the view of the fields. The town square was a pavilion lit with floating lanterns and bright lights. There were a few stores as well.

A weaponry, every town had those Dream supposed, filled with iron armour and weapons for keeping the nightly mobs away. It was small and cute, the sign outside dubbed it ‘Technoblades Blades’ which Dream couldn’t decide was stupid or hilarious. Probably both. Next door was a bakery, the smell of dough floated through the doors. The various breads and cakes decorating the front looked delicious. He saw a fox-hybrid at the counter. Hybrids weren’t exactly uncommon, people and mobs having children it was just...odd to see so openly Dream supposed. Though who was he to judge anyone for their actions so he shook away those thoughts. The next building was a small clinic. The building looked run down and quant but not dirty, it seemed homey. 

Lost in his thoughts he accidentally bumped into someone, who promptly dropped everything they were holding.

“Oh! Oh Christ, I’m so sorry.” Dream scrambled to help pick the things up. When he collected all of the loose papers askew on the ground he placed them into the stranger’s hand. 

“It’s alright really, a mistake is all.” The stranger gave him a quiet smile. He had neat dark hair, and wore a striking amount of blue. He was...well Dream didn’t quite know how to put it.

‘Cute’ his mind supplied him.

“I haven’t seen you around here, are you passing through?” The stranger looked at him through dark doe eyes. Dream stumbled over his words.

“Uh-um yeah I’m just passing through.” Dream chuckled awkwardly.

“Oh well, my name is George. It's very nice to meet you.” George's smile reached his eyes.

“George!” A voice called from behind them, a man with a white ribbon tied around his head and a large presence ran toward them.

“Hey George I need your help,” The man rested his hands on his knees as he bent, gasping for breath, “Joffrey is missing and I have no idea where he is-who are you?” 

“Sapnap this is...who are you again?” George turned to Dream.

“Oh, yeah sorry, my name’s Clay.”

“Clay, yeah,” George looked at him with those doe eyes again, “Wait so Jofferys is missing?”

“Yes! I don't know where he is. I've looked everywhere.” Sapnap exasperated.

“Well your version of ‘looking everywhere’ is just unacceptable in the first place. He’s probably just in the woods or something, I'll help you look.”

“I can lend an extra pair of eyes if you need.” Clay added in, almost immediately cringing. They didn’t know him why did he even offer they just met that's so awkward-

“That’d be awesome! Thanks dude!” Sapnap nudged Clay's shoulder with his. 

So they all set off to a small house surrounded by trees. Clay was quiet, he usually was when it came to strangers, but these guys made him comfortable. They were both so casual and welcoming. They walked around the property calling for Joffrey, looking under boxes and behind barn doors. 

“Why the fuck would a horse be under a cardboard box?” George asked as Sapnap threw a box across the barn.

“I dont fucking know maybe he’s athletic? I don’t judge my horse’s size George.” Sapnap held up a finger and continued searching. 

“Is there any way your horse could have gone into the woods?” Clay suggested.

“Ugh Joffrey is so dead when I get him back,” Sapnap complained, “I hate those damn woods.”

“What's wrong with the woods?” Clay couldn’t see why some trees would spark such an begrudgent reaction.

“It’s not the woods per se, more all those mobs,” George started when Sapnap jumped in.

“Those damn trees are so thick no light gets through so it's crawling with mobs.”

“Ah, ok,” Clay began to understand, “So why don’t we just go in quick and run back out?” Clay didn’t really see what was so startling about a few mobs but he wasn’t one to speak on a normal person's ability to hunt.

Sapnap just sighed in acceptance and he and George grabbed two swords off of the wall. Sapnap twisted his sword with his wrist and when he seemed satisfied they set off.

The trees were as dense as Sapnap and George claimed. Clay couldn’t move a few feet without getting hit in the face by a branch. The tall grass tickled him through the holes in his jeans, the air moist on his neck. Sapnap was a few yards away calling out for Joffrey.

“So, what brought you to town?” George cut down a vine tangling his leg.  
“Don’t know really, needed a fresh start.” Clay grunted and whacked a branch away from his face.

“Ooh I get it, mysterious stranger has a dark backstory I get it.” George chuckled.

To his left Clay heard a twig snap and he turned to look but a tree blocked his view.

“Sapnap?” he called out, but in return was a low moan. The grumble of a zombie, which Clay could deal with no problem on any day except he was unarmed and unpracticed. So when the zombie stumbled toward him Clays brain tried to figure out a fix. He couldn’t go at the zombie with his fists, that’d be dangerous for infection. When Clay was starting to reach for the closest stick he heard Sapnap yell to him.

“Catch!” And suddenly Clay saw a sword in the air coming towards him. But then it wasn’t iron, it was netherite and Dream dropped the sword as soon as he caught it, fumbling to get it away from him. Then George was in front of him, cutting down the zombie like Dream had done a thousand times. 

“Woah mysterious stranger, looks like you need some sword lessons.” George laughed like it was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please leave suggestions in the comments on how to improve my writing! Sorry my dialogue is subpar haha


	3. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream meets more of the cast :)

Clay, Sapnap and George spent that night getting to know each other at Sapnaps house. Joffrey was safe back in his stall like nothing had happened. The night was warm and buzzing with so many bugs Clay didn’t know existed. Dream laughed for what seemed like the first time in a long, long while. 

“What time is it?” George called from the kitchen.

“Uh 1am? Damn it's late. I don’t mean to kick y’all out but that's what's happening, I got work in the morning.” Sapnap yawned as he stretched, lifting himself off the couch.

“Gee thanks asshole,” George picked up a pillow and aimed for Sapnaps head, “At least walk me home like a gentleman.” 

The pillow completely missed and knocked the lamp onto the floor. Clay instinctively made a move from his seat to catch it before it broke.

“For a stranger who can’t fight he sure has fast reflexes.” George jumped over the couch and helped Clay put the lamp back into place. 

“Yeah,” Clay gave an awkward chuckle, “I guess I’m a natural athlete, I mean have you seen these guns?” Clay struck a dorky pose that made Sapnap burst out in laughter.

“Yeah yeah tough guy,” George rolled his eyes, “Well Sap’ I'll be off.”

“Me too.” Clay stood up and gave a mock salute.

“Come back soon Clay, yeah? I promise George isn’t as boring as he seems.” Sapnap swung an arm over George's shoulder and rubbed his hair. George swatted him off and rolled his eyes. They said their goodbyes and Clay and George went their separate ways. 

Clay was back into the night, alone again.  
It's not that Clay didn’t want to tell them, he knew he should. He didn’t like lying to them like this. How would he explain it to them? He knew he could fight, hell it's what he was famous for. But how could he explain why he dropped the sword? How would George and Sapnap look at him when they found out that the ‘Great War Hero Dream’ couldn't force himself to even hold a sword in months. How would they look at him knowing how much of a coward he was? It was wrong, Dream knew that and he would come clean eventually. It’s just that he wanted to be ‘Clay’ for just a little bit longer, he wanted to be selfish for just a little bit longer.

His footsteps echoed into the night, crushing leaves that fell onto the path. Alone with his thoughts Dream contemplated his situation. He wasn’t short of money, people practically threw it at him. A while back he was given a golden encrusted version of his mask by the mayor of some random town he passed through. That's when he gave up on travelling with the mask on. He was grateful, really he was, but it was all so unnecessary. He could keep walking, walk to another town and get even farther away. Even if Dream knew deep down he’d never be far enough. Everyone here was just so nice, Dream felt like he’d corrupt them just by existing there. Dream knew no matter where he settled he would feel the same. So should he just never stop walking? 

But then he saw George smiling and Sapnap laughing and he made his decision, to let himself be selfish one last time.

\-------------

It had been surprisingly easy. When he woke up Clay asked the inn owner, Niki, if she knew of any properties or apartments for sale and it turns out there was. A man named Schlatt had moved out of town and his house was currently up for grabs. It seemed Clay had arrived at the most convenient time.

That evening Clay opened the house’s door. It wasn’t big nor was it pretty but it was homey. The house was one level and only had about 4 rooms in total but Clay didn’t need much space anyways. The ranch had a farm behind it, there were no animals and Clay wasn’t necessarily an animal person so he had quite a lot of land to fill. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do with all of this. 

Dream had always lived in training camps, military bases or couch surfing at his friends houses. He never really saw himself as a ‘homeowner type’. 

‘There's a first time for everything’ he guessed.

The living room was quaint and quiet, decorated with oak furniture and maroon fabrics. The kitchen was opened to it, rusted appliances dotting the counters. The bathroom wasn’t large either but it was big enough for a bathtub that could fit Clay so that was good. The bedroom was comfy and spacious, Clay set down his bag and fell onto the bed. It was a little hard and the sheets scratched at his arms but it was nice, still.

Clay started to unpack, something he didn’t think he’d have to do nearly as soon as he was. He hadn’t broughten much, enough clothes to barely fill the closet, some photos of his old friends and a few necessities. Under everything he saw his mask.

Dream picked it up and allowed himself to admire the relic for a moment. It was spotted with drops of blood and ash. The white smile somehow still prominent as ever. 

With a sigh Dream stood and placed the mask inside of a chest. He pushed the chest into the back of his closet and resolved himself to leave there for as long as he could. 

The last item he carried with him was around his neck. A necklace charmed with two swords and a streak of red.

\-------------

In the late afternoon Clay woke up to a knock at his door. Bleary eyed and completely unpresentable, he answered the door.

“Hello! It’s very nice to meet you, Niki said we had new neighbors and I thought it was only polite to pop-in and say welcome!” A man with a toothy smile greeted him. He was shorter than Clay and significantly peppier. Next to him was a guy who looked pretty indifferent about the situation but gave a small smile anyways.

“My name’s Bad,” ‘Bad’ practically jumped as he spoke, “This is Skeppy! We live in that house just over there, it’s so nice to have new neighbors!”

“Nice to meet you, my name’s Clay,” It was getting easier to say his name casually, “Would you like to come in?”

“Actually we can’t but we came to invite you to this thing tonight.” Skeppy said.

“Oh right! Tonight we’re having a campfire! Sometimes we hold a town campfire and tell spooky stories, it's really fun.” Bad wiggled his fingers as he spoke which Skeppy tried his best not to laugh at.

“That seems like fun, thank you for inviting me.” Clay wasn’t really huge on public gatherings but what was he supposed to say? No? It's not like he could possibly have any other plans.

“Great we’ll see you there then!” Bad yelled behind him as Skeppy dragged them away.

Clay shut the door and slid his back against it until he was on the floor. It was too early for social interaction.

When Clay decided the sitting on the floor was not a suitable way to spend his day he decided to go downtown. He started off to the bakery he saw yesterday, he was starving.

The sun beat down on his shoulders as he walked and the path ahead of him crunched under his feet. When he arrived at the bakery the smell of food set off Clays stomach into a fit of rumbling. 

“Hungry?” A voice behind him startled Clay out of his thoughts.

“Ah, yeah.” Clay admitted. The voice belonged to the fox hybrid Clay had seen behind the counter the other day. He walked in front of Clay and unlocked the bakery doors.

“Well, you’re in luck. I’m back from break.” He smiled.

The bakery was cute and...orange. The whole bakery was decorated in white and orange decorations in different and cute Halloween patterns.

“Ah, the Halloween stuff is an inside joke,” The man chuckled when he saw Clay staring, “So new to town huh? Heard you bought out Schlatt’s old place.”

“Uh yeah I did.” Clay still wasn’t used to all the small talk.

‘Don’t worry I won’t ask for your life story, just your order,” The man winked, “‘Name’s Fundy by the way.”

“Clay.” Clay said as he surveyed the sweets in front of him. There were mainly orange and white foods (a running theme he assumed). Fox cookies and carrot cakes, pumpkin ice cream and white chocolate brownies. There were some healthier options too. Orange juice, an array of orange colored bagels and croissants and muffins.

Clay picked out a bagel and orange juice, sticking to his normal preferences. He thanked Fundy and took a seat in the back of the store. He sat hunched over his bagel calmly eating when he heard the door open.

“Hey Fundy, can I have the usual?” And a hum in acknowledgement. Clay wasn’t really paying too much attention, trying to mind his own when he heard his name. 

“Clay?”

When Clay looked up he saw a familiar face, with blue clothes and dorky white goggles. 

“Hey George.” Clay watched as George casually took a seat across from him.

“Busy morning, how are you settling in?” George rested his elbows on the table.

“Good, good. Too much space if I'm being honest,” Clay shrugged and stared at his bagel, “Never had my own place, little bit out of my expertise.”

“Dude don’t worry about it, i'm not from around here originally either,” George smiled, “You’re doing better than I was, shut myself in my room for a few days.”

“Oh? Where are you from?” Clay settled into the casual conversation.

“Oh-” George started but was abruptly interrupted by Fundy.

“George, you're orders ready!” Fundy called from the counter.

“Thanks Fundy!” George stood up from his seat and walked over the counter, “See ya tonight right Clay? I’m sure Bad already got to you by now, I’ll see you!” George added as Clay nodded a goodbye.

When he finished his bagel Clay didn’t really know what to do. He decided to walk around and enjoy the scenery. This idea was immediately shut down when he found the only notable scenery to be occupied. There were two boys with swords sparring.

One, Clay recalled, was Tommy and the other Clay had yet to meet. While they spared they laughed, Clay assumed they were close friends. The other had fluffy brown hair like wilbur and wore a green shirt. Clay did what he knew how to do, spectate. 

Tommy was aggressive almost to a fault, his swings were wide and his feet work was sloppy. He struck hard but without control. The other, he was too timid. His swings were calculating but few and far between, he stuck to defense. The two fought each other for a little while, Tommy too offensive to defend and the other the opposite.

It wasn’t until Clay felt a presence by his side that he realized he was staring at children. He turned and saw Wilbur, the man that greeted him a few days prior.  
“Have you settled in nicely?” Wilbur prompted the conversation.

“Yeah, very well thank you.” Clay replied simply.

“The little ones Tubbo by the way, I saw you watching.” he gestured to the two sparing.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to be creepy,” Clay waved his hands in defense, “I just haven’t seen someone spar in a long time. They both have a lot of potential.”

“Thank you, I taught them.” Wilbur looked off wistfully.

“Wow, you must be some fighter then.” Clay whistled.

“Nah, not really. Kids need to learn how to fight in this world, they didn’t have anyone else who would take the time and teach ‘em. Besides it's not a big deal, they're like my brothers.” Wilbur sighed and turned to Clay again and smiled.

“That's very admirable. I’m sure they'll be good fighters in the future, I’ve seen worse than them starting out when pursuing the military.” Clay reassured.

“Really it should be Phil or Techno teaching them, but they’re so busy these days,” Wilbur mostly mumbled to himself but clarified when he caught Clays eyes, “My dad, well ‘adoptive dad’, and brother. Phil served in the war against Herobrine; he's more experienced than any of us. Technoblade's a weapons fanatic though, he’s studied more strategies than I can count.” Wilbur admitted.

The sun was setting in the distance and Tommy and Tubbo caught sight of them and ran over.

“Wilbur! Wilbur! Did you see?! I totally crushed Tubbos ass!” Tommy smiled widely and pumped a fist in the air. The boys were both in front of them then.

“I did see, you’re improving fast Tommy,” Wilbur smiled, “You too Tubbs.” Ruffling his hair.

“Tubbo this is Clay, he moved into Schlatts old house.” Wilbur nodded over to Clay.

“Nice to meet you!” Tubbo smiled, “Are you coming to the fire pit?”

“Uh yeah I think I am.” Clay said when Tommy jumped in.

“Poggers! Lets go before Sapnap steals all the marshmallows and Tommy led Tubbo toward the town center.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know my dialogue is so terribly bad but seriously thank you for taking a chance on this fic it means a lot.
> 
> I hope everyone has a wonderful night, lots of love.
> 
> (Any suggestions for how to continue the story or how to improve are welcome and appreciated!)


	4. Dew Drops in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bonfire.

When the sun started to set, the sky was painted with orange. Tommy and Tubbo dragged Wilbur by the hand toward the town center. Over in the distance Clay could see a bonfire being set. He watched as the flames creeped up the logs. 

As they got closer he saw everyone start to pick out their respective seats. There were chairs set in a lopsided circle around the fire. Clay recognized a few familiar faces, Bad sat next to Skeppy, George was there next to Sapnap and Niki was talking with Fundy. Along with them there was also an abundance of unfamiliar faces.

Tommy, Tubbo and Wilbur took seats next to two men. One with a green hat and the other with a long pink ponytail. They immediately settled into an animated conversation. Dream felt a little out of place.

“Clay!” Sapnaps voice floated over the sound of his thoughts. He turned to be greeted with a smile and an empty seat.

“Hey Sapnap,” Clay walked over, “How was work?”

“Work, yeah, if you could call it that.” George scoffed from his seat. Sapnaps head swung at the insult.

“Well at least I actually do something, you just sit there all day-” Clay tuned out their yelling. It was comforting in an odd way, to have the background noise. 

In their fight George somehow got a hold of the marshmallows and started pelting Sapnap with them. This seemed to be a running theme. Clay caught one in the air and stuck it on a stick set by his seat. 

He watched as the flames inched along the bottom of the marshmallow. The flames grow and grow, building up and swallowing the marshmallow in its heat. The muffled sounds in his ear of people around him seemed louder than it was before. The heat against Clay’s face burned and nicked at his skin. The fire seemed bigger all of a sudden, the flames past anyone's control. The white of the marshmallow burned and covered in ash, the light of the flames streaked it with red and Dream couldn’t breathe. The rush of familiar fear shot through him. And then Dream was drowning in loud inintelligible noise and the Nethers fire burning in front of him.

A hand was on his shoulder and a voice murmured in his ear. Startled, Dream turned to see George touching him.

“Is your marshmallow warm enough?” George raised an eyebrow, when Clay turned back his marshmallow was a charred piece of ash half hanging on the stick.

“Yeah uh,” Clay choked out a laugh he hoped sounded convincing, “I like it burned, adds to the flavor.”

“Yeah, George, not everyone has a stick up their ass like you.” Sapnap chuckled as he pulled an equally charred marshmallow off his stick and into his mouth.

“Well excuse me for thinking that maybe Clay has some standards,“ George looked at Clay’s marshmallow repulsed, “I guess not.” 

“Hey I have standards!” Clay pushed George out of his seat, “At least I have reflexes, you can’t aim for shit!”

“Well at least I know how to use a sword!” George shoved Clay out of his seat in retaliation, “You can’t even fight one zombie!” George laughed and Clay gave an urgent and insulted response.

“I can fight you asshole!”

“Oh yeah and I’m Dream,” He rolled his eyes, “That's the funniest thing you’ve said all evening, maybe you do have standards, in comedy anyway.” George got up to grab another marshmallow from Sapnap, laughing. Clay couldn’t help but start to think that he’d never escape that name.

\-----------

The bonfire was fun; Dream usually didn’t enjoy big events but the energy was infectious. He met some of the other town folk. He tried to memorize their names: Eret, Karl, Quackity, Ranboo. They were all just so nice that Dream got carried away in their kindness. He didn’t know what time it was when he saw a man walk over to him. He was the one with the hat that was seated with Wilbur.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met, my name is Philza Minecraft.” He put out his hand to shake.

“I don’t think we have,” Dream said, taking the hand “My name’s Clay, I-uh just moved in.” 

“It’s always nice to meet new people, welcome. I wanted to get to you before you met anyone else, they can be...,” He trailed off with a soft smile, “overwhelming.”

“No no It's fine really,” Dream gave an awkward laugh, “Everyones been really nice, I'm just not used to the whole ‘small town’ business.”  
“You get used to it.” Philza took a sip out of his drink.

“Are you not from around here?” Truthfully, Dream needed some help adjusting even if that meant asking a stranger.

“Yep,” Philza looked over towards Wilbur and the others who were currently fighting over a pack of chocolate, “I’m from one of the bigger cities near the capital. My brother was the one who lived here. We were both in the war, he-um…” 

“You’ve done a brave thing moving here, Mr. Minecraft.” Dream certainly thought Phil was braver than him, raising kids.

“Oh no, please call me Phil,” He laughed, “Mr. Minecraft makes me sound old.”

There was a quick tension there, not awkward and not quiet. The thumming of nostalgia rippled between them. 

“My brother was Technos dad. Wilbur and those two knuckle heads just happened to come along for the ride. I found them and it just worked out I suppose.” Phil finished his drink and set it on the table behind him.

“I’m sorry for your loss, the war has taken a lot from us hasn't it.” Dream looked down at his drink. Red wine, the liquid swirling in the cup. One of the kids, Techno, started walking over to them.

Techno had reached them then and Phil ruffled his hair. 

“Hi, I’m Clay.” Dream waved to Techno and received a nod of acknowledgement in return.

“Technoblade.”

“Techno, we were just talking about old battle stories. Though I guess I’ve been rambling haven't I?” Phil gave an embarrassed chuckle. Techno’s head immediately turned to Clay. His eyes wide with attention.

“Were you in the war?” Techno looked at him with such curiosity that for a moment Dream forgot what to say.

“Uh, yes I was.” Dream managed to get out.

“Were you really? Me and my brother both signed up together, you know,” Phil never stopped smiling, Dream noted, “We marched in the 34th battalion.”

“Wait if you were in the war did you ever meet Dream?” Techno, it seemed to Dream, was jumping on him for answers. 

“Dream?” Dream throat gave a familiar squeeze.

“Sorry,” Phil shot Techno a parental glare, “Techno has an admiration for Dream.”

“Well who doesn’t?” Techno started, “He isn’t just a war hero he's the Blood God Phil. He killed Herobrine, a God! He saved thousands all on his own and never took any glory from it. Dream is the greatest hero known to Notch...other than you Phil.” Techno added sheepishly.

‘Dream is a coward’ He thought to himself.

“Ok, Techno, Ok I get it,” Phil chuckled, “It’s very rare that you’ll meet someone who has met Dream.” Techno rolled his eyes.   
\------------

The night settled into a lull. Everyone had separated into their little groups by the end of the night. The way Techno had talked about Dream left him nauseous enough to leave the party early. Bidding a goodnight to a fairly tipsy George and a plastered Sapnap.

Dream stumbled into his room and broke for the bathroom. He hunched over the toilet and waited for his nausea to subside. It didn’t though, instead his breathing sped up and his head pounded. He was disoriented and distraught. Dream couldn’t even figure out what was wrong, everything hurt. His nails made marks on his chest as he raked them against his skin. His heart hurt, it burned in his blood. Dream couldn’t focus, his breaths shuddering against his lungs. His hands trembled as he found the necklace around his neck. 

The metal seemed to skin his palm as he took it off. Heavy breaths clouding his thoughts Dream threw it as hard as he could. The sound of metal against wood radiating his Dreams ears. He scrambled to muffle it but the sound just grew louder and louder. He leaned his head against the wall, cradling himself in his bedroom. 

He hated him. Callahan and all his righteous glory. He hated him for protecting Dream. For leaving him with a legacy he didn’t want and a world without his best friend. 

Dream saw the sword. That damn sword that was weighted with so many people's blood. He grabbed its hilt and walked outside. The cold air rubbing at his raw cheeks. Dream opened the cellar door and threw that damn sword as far and as hard as he could. Deep down Dream knew that it wouldn’t break but it settled his mind to think it had.

just outside the cellar Dream sank to his knees. The grass was rough along his skin and the dew drops dotted his eyes. He hated. Such raw hate festered inside of him. 

Callahan got to die and Dream had to live, he hated him for it. He hated how no matter how far he went that fucking name would haunt him. Haunt him for an achievement he had longed for his whole life. It wasn’t fair, no one told him there was a trade off. 

When Dream felt sleep creep up on him he didn’t give himself the pleasure of moving from the wet grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to @hollowghost for being such a big supporter to this series!  
> (PS these chapters seem a lot longer in google docs lol)  
> Thank you so much everyone <3
> 
> Once again sorry for my poor dialogue skills


	5. And for A Moment, All Was Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys decide, how fast do you want the romance plot to go? Let me know!

A couple days had passed the day Dream woke up in his backyard. He settled into some sort of routine. Clay didn’t need a job, he had all the money he needed to support himself so he had started trying to find new hobbies. 

George and Sapnap attempted to ‘teach’ Clay how to fight. That went about as badly as anyone would think. It was a mess of Clay pretending to be a beginner and Sapnap getting insanely frustrated about Clay's form. They gave that up pretty quickly.

He tried to help Fundy with the bakery but Clay found out pretty quickly he was a terrible cook, baker, whatever. He tried to help Eret with tending to sheep; Clay got headbutted by a ram. Phil offered to give him work at the farm but Clay accidentally broke one of Tubbos beehives and after profusely apologizing he gave up on animal care altogether. 

“Jesus you really suck don’t you?” George laughed and Clay nudged him off the path.

“Oh fuck you,” Clay chuckled, “I’m great at a lot of things, I just haven’t found what yet…”

“Don’t worry about it too much Clay I’m sure you’ll find your calling soon enough.” George and Clay had their walks everyday. It was easy since their houses were practically next to each other. They were the only two houses farthest away from the town square. George had his work in town, as a lawyer and Clay needed to get out of the house anyways. So the two made a ‘thing’ out of it. 

“So how’s work coming?” Clay asked.

“Oh god do not do that to me.” George groaned and griminced.   
“What? What did I do?” 

“God the whole ‘small talk’ thing. I can handle it from everyone else but it feels so weird coming from you.”

“Ok! Ok! Jeez,” Clay wheezed, “So what do you want to talk about? We’re almost at your place.”

“I don’t know…” George started, “What is your favorite color?”

“Oh and that's not small talk?” 

“Come on just tell me.” George pushed him, clay sighed.

“I’ve never thought about it too much...Green?” Clay shrugged.

“Ew why green?” George wrinkled his nose.

“What?” Clay wheezed out a word, “What's wrong with green?”

“Nothing! Nothing. It's just… green..” George held his hands in defense. 

“You’re colorblind George, what do you know. Green happens to be a great color.”

‘Ok, ok im sorry!” George broke.

“No! It's too late. I'm now devoted to the color green, it's my new love.”

“You’re so stupid…Here's my building. I'll see you later.” George waved him goodbye.  
Clay waved back and felt his hand drop against his side. He continued walking like he did everyday. He passed Fundy’s bakery and waved hello. He walked the dirt path as he kicked a rock up it. When he came to the field he saw Tommy, Tubbo and Wilbur arguing. Well, it was more Tommy and Wilbur. 

Wilbur shrugged his shoulders and walked away from a cursing Tommy and a contemplative Tubbo. Wilbur looked visibly upset as he unknowingly made his way up to Clay. When he looked up and saw him, there was a new light in his eyes.

“Clay! Hey Clay!” Wilbur called and ran up to him.

“Hey Wil, whats up?” Clay asked, he’d rather do anything than spend another day walking around the square.

“This is great,” Wilbur smiled, “Phil said you were in the war right? That means you know how to fight. Listen, I promised Tommy and Tubbo I’d help them train but something came up...I got a new job. I won’t be around as much anymore. Is there any way you could help me out and train them this once?” 

“Well I-I guess but I-” Clay stuttered out.

“Great! Thank you so much Clay!” Wilbur shouted, he was already gone. 

So with all the caution an ex-soldier attempting to talk to a pair of pubescent children has, he walked forward.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tommy glared.

“Tommy,” Tubbo elbowed Tommy and turned to Clay, “Sorry he’s just upset Wil bailed on us. Whats up?”  
“Wilbur uh, asked me to teach you how to fight.” Clay rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh yeah you were in the war weren’t you?” Tubbo smiled and looked at Tommy, “Hear that Tommy? We have an actual soldier teaching us now!” Tommy looked Clay up and down, as if deciding if he was good enough. When Tommy seemed to come to a conclusion he nodded.

“Ok,” Clay loosely clapped his hands, “First rule of fighting. Only work in defense.” Tommy whined.

“No come on, not all that ‘dont hurt people’ bullshit.” 

“Only work in defense...so you don’t get blamed.” Clay finished and Tommy grinned.

“Well what are you waiting for big man teach us some moves!”

So Clay taught them what he could, at first the basics but days turned to weeks and he taught them more. Tubbo mastered blocking first, Tommy put up a fuss about how defense is ‘weakfense’ whatever that meant.

Tommy favored offense, Clay would have guessed. Tommy was aggressive and persistent. Tubbo was calm and calculative. Clay taught them both control. Tommy swung wildly and frantically, he learned to center his attacks and focus his strength. Tubbo, at first, was too in his own head to trust himself to swing. He learned to let himself breathe and let go. 

Training wasn’t the only thing Clay did with the boys, he taught them how to meditate and how to build up endurance. For once Clay felt close enough to his past and still not be Dream. When he was coaching he was still Clay, the same guy that Tommy and Tubbo see everyday. Even so, everytime one of them gives him a wild, foolish smile, Callahan is with him.

Sometimes Clay wonders what Callahan would think of him. Him running away from everything and starting fresh, living in a farmhouse.

‘He’d bust a lung’ Clay thought.

“Clay! Clay! Did you see that sick fucking move I did on Tubbo?” Tommy dropped his wooden sword and ran towards him.

“I did! Very nice, you’re improving quickly.” Tommy beamed at him.

Clay never felt what it was like to have siblings, but he assumed this pride was akin to that. They grew closer over the weeks and as they did Tommy seemed to have one question in mind.

“So when are you going to spar with me?” Tommy said one day out of nowhere.

“Tommy, I am not going to fight you.” Clay laughed.

But from then on it was everyday. Just when Clay couldn’t think of as many reasons as Tommy had questions, Tubbo was the one to eventually get him to hold off. Tubbo didn’t interrupt Tommy often but when he did Clay noticed that he listened.

When Clay wasn’t with those kids he was with Sapnap and George.

“Hey Sapnap, what do you want for lunch?” George called from the kitchen.

“Georgie be a doll and make me a sandwich.” Sapnap fluttered his eyes mockingly.

“Oh fuck off.” George threw the bag of bread at him from the kitchen.

“So Clay hows dealing with the demons going?” Sapnap kicked Clays feet off the table.

“For the last time Sapnap, don’t call them Demons. They have super hearing. Me teaching them how to fight doesn’t bode well for you.” 

“Oh yeah, I’m terrified of some kids who learned everything they know from the ‘Great Soldier Clay’. Just hope they don’t go up against any zombies soon.”

“Oh yeah haha asshole.” Clay tackled Sapnap to the floor.

“Oh you’re asking for it bitch boy!” Sapnap and Clay wrestled each other on the floor.

‘You dumb fuckers you’re going to ruin the carpet with your slobber!” George jumped over the couch and into the wrestling match.

“Ooo~ Georgie, look it's a three way!” Sapnap cackled as he shouldered his way out of the pile.

“Gross Sap.” Clay punched his shoulder, smiling.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Sapnap stood up and walked over behind the kitchen.

“You couldn’t have just said that?” George rolled his eyes.

“Where's the fun in that?” Sapnap called.

So George and Clay were left alone.

“You need me to help you in the kitchen?”

“Yeah that'd be great,” George held out a hand to help Clay off the floor, “Sapnap eats as much as a fucking horse so I need to make more than usual.”

The kitchen was small and quiet now that Sapnap had left. Clay was put on peanut butter duty as George ranted about his newest client. Clay liked listening to George ramble, which was easy since George had a talent for it. Every once and awhile Clay would chime in with his opinion or comment on how dangerous it was for George to be swinging the knife around like that as he talked. George paused for a second and looked at Clay.

“Oh shit I forgot!” George walked over to his bag in the living room. He pulled out something and walked back over to Clay.

“I saw this on my way home from work at Technos shop and thought you’d like it. It's no big deal.” George handed over what he was holding and when Clay unfolded it he found himself holding a green hoodie. One with a familiar manic smile plastered on it. But somehow it didn’t bother him as much as when he thought about how George gave it to him.

“Thanks George, it seems like you’ve finally accepted green as the superior color.” Clay smiled, a genuine smile. George rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be stupid, I just-I thought your wardrobe needed some color other than black,” George mumbled, “Shut up just help me with the sandwiches.”

So Clay was back on peanut butter duty, branding a neon green hoodie with his old signia. They worked in a comfortable silence, both with warm smiles they refused to acknowledge. 

“Sup fuckers I’m back!” Sapnap ran from the bathroom to the couch causing a tremendous bang.

“Oh Sapnap come on you’re gonna break my couch!” George yelled, exasperated. 

“Just get me my sandwiches maiden!” Sapnap called teasingly from the couch.

George and Clay both reached for the plate at the same time, hands touching. When Clay looked up he saw George staring back at him. Flushed cheeks and a parted mouth stunned Clay into a trance. George’s gaze looked down at Clay's lips and only then did Clay realize how close they were; how comfortable he was with it.

“Hey fuckers! Hurry up I’m hungry!” Sapnap called from the couch.

And in a second, the trance was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some demanded Fluff before our regularly scheduled programming!  
> Thank you all for sticking with this book and giving it a chance, sincerely.


	6. What Lies in Wait For Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we reach the end of the exposition my friends.

The days turned into weeks and the weeks turned to months. 

Clay had spent three months in his new home. Three month of bonfires and friends and Clay. When Dream was younger he was a ward of the state, training overwhelmed his life. He was destined for greatness since he was born. But here, here life was quiet and simple. Clay was living a life Dream would have never imagined for himself. 

He had friends too, the type of bond he had only shared with Callahan he now shared with many. Late night conversations and drunken laughs. It doesn’t mean Clay didn’t think of him. He saw Cal in every conversation. George’s quiet attitude, Sapnap’s laugh, Tommy’s smile and Tubbo’s concentration. 

Even so, Clay was happy there. 

But all good things must come to an end.

\------------

Clay didn’t know what sparked it, maybe the date on the calendar, that mask’s menacing presence behind the closet doors. Maybe it was the looming sense of doom that had settled inside of Clays stomach. 

It didn’t matter what caused it because when it hit, Clay doubled over from the force of it all.

That day marked the 1st year anniversary of Callahan's death, the death of Herobrine, the birth of Dreams legend.

It wasn’t a shock. Dream had been preparing for this day for weeks. He knew this was coming and he had readied himself. This day wasn’t supposed to be different from all the others Dream spent mourning, he never stopped. At most Dream would lock himself in his room for the afternoon. 

The others planned a small celebration for the anniversary, obviously to commemorate the greatest victory of the millennia. Clay had been invited but he politely declined, he didn’t want to celebrate a false hero. He didn’t want to enjoy himself on the day he got his best friend killed. 

When Dream walked into his room though, he felt something he had only ever felt once. 

A particular sense of dread pooling at the bottom of his stomach.

The last time Dream felt this was before he seized the Fortress. The dread of something on the horizon, something bigger than any of them. All consuming and swallowing, racing through his veins. Impending doom sneaking up on his soldiers while they rest in wait. 

Dream steadied himself on the post of his bed, clutching his churning stomach. 

‘This was wrong’ 

‘This was wrong’ 

‘This was wrong’ 

‘This was wrong’

Dreams breathing quickened as he focused on the feeling, searching for its source. The origin for this malignant intuition. The more Dream looked the more confused he seemed to become. He didn’t know when he had fallen but his nails raked into the floorboards.

His hair mangled from clutching at his head and his lip bled. Dream clawed at his clothes that seemed to strangle him. He tried to get up once or twice but his knees buckled everytime sending him back onto the floor.

He didn’t know how long he had been like that, it must have been for a while because there was a small knock on his door. Or Dream guessed there was, he couldn’t hear very well over the sound of his ragged breathing.

“Clay?” A voice came from somewhere in the rooms over and Dream strained to hear, “I came by to see if you wanted to go to the festival? I know you said you don’t do festivals but I thought it’d be fun… Clay?”

Footsteps taunted Dream. The creaking of the wooden floorboards threatened his dignity.

‘Look how pathetic’ A voice in his head nagged him

‘Imagine what they would think if they saw the Great Dream on his knees’

‘You are your own undoing.’

‘Herobrine won, you are nothing.

‘Maybe if you had just died then Callahan would have lived and you wouldn’t be such a fucking disapointment’ 

‘Imagine Wilburs reaction to having a murderer train his brothers’

‘How would Sapnap and George think of you lying to them?’

‘You lied to everyone.’  
‘You’ve damaged them with your presence’

‘You should’ve never stopped running’

‘Selfish’

‘Selfish’

‘Phils face when he realizes his brother died for a coward and his nephew worships a fraud’

‘Imagine it Dream.’

‘Come on Dream’

‘Dream.’

‘Dream!’

“Clay!” 

He felt hands on his face, the cold skin burning his warm cheeks.

“Clay,” A voice muffled in his ears, “Clay. Snap out of it man.” Even so, Dream's eyes were trained to the ground, clouded vision and a trembling chest. A hand caught Dream's chin and forced his gaze up. 

Dream was met with doe eyes and a worried frown.

“G-George?” Dreams throat barely opened enough to choke out his name.

“Jesus I thought you were fucking dead,” George moved Dreams head checking for injuries, “Whats wrong?”

Dream couldn’t speak so he just swung his head wildly from side to side.

“Ok, Ok-breathe Clay- You don’t have to talk,” George took one hand off Dream’s cheek and ran it through his hair, “Just come here.”

George set Dream against the wall and knelt in front of him.

Dreams breathing never slowed, his ragged breaths shook his chest so hard Dream though it was going to shatter. His trembling hands wrapped themselves around him and squeezed. George was still talking to him, he was trying to listen but the ringing screamed in his ears.

“I don’t know how to help- I’ll get Sapnap,’ George stumbled to his feet, “He’ll know what to do, yeah.” Like he was convincing himself. 

Dream felt himself move before his mind caught up. He grabbed George's hand and gave him pleading eyes.

“Please,” Dream's voice sounded awful, “Please don’t go.”

George looked at him for a moment, his eyes searching Dream's face. Looking for what, Dream didn’t know. When George found what he was searching for he knelt back down in front of Dream. He opened his arms, waiting.

Dream practically fell into George’s arms. He buried his face into George’s neck and clutched onto his jacket. 

George's hands were moving on his back, slow and calming. Dream felt hot shame flare on his face. He was sure George could feel the heat on his neck. 

And for the first time in a year, Clay let himself cry.

\------------

When Clay had calmed down, his breathing evened and his hands stopped trembling, he pulled away.

“You okay Clay?” George tilted his head and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that.” Clay’s chest was sore.

“Oh yeah, you looked just peachy having a fucking asthma attack.” George gave a small smile but the worry lines in his forehead never left. When Clay's eyes darted to the ground and he shifted away George corrected himself.

“Not that that's abnormal, Sap gets anxious a lot too, I just...somethings wrong. You don’t have to talk about it or anything but you’re not fine. When I saw you on the floor I thought you were dead or something. I’m pretty shit at comforting but maybe it’ll help to talk about it.” 

Clay didn’t think George was bad at comforting at all, not that he’d say that.

“Somethings wrong.” Clay muttered, embarrassed. 

“Ok?” George was trying to follow Clay's train of thought. Trying, that is.  
“I can’t explain it, it's like a door that was closed opened,” Clay wished desperately George could read his mind, 

“Something is coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for supporting this series! I love you all so much.
> 
> A special shoutout to HollowGhost, AkaneShiro, Beautifully_Terribly and MewMewMew69 for being so amazing towards this humble fic.


	7. Reap What You Sow

When Clay woke up that morning the pool of dread in his stomach seemed just as full as the night before. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments pondering last night's events.

He recalled how he cried in Georges arms, how George made him hot chocolate and sat him on the couch. He remembered George leaving at the late hours of the night, reassuring Clay he wasn’t bothered with missing the festivities. 

Clay wasn’t sure how he felt, at first selfish, but George reassured him countless times that he didn’t mind. He put the soft warmth as admiration and gratefulness. He didn’t know what he would have done without George, especially when all his mind was focused on was how to run. To run away from what was about to happen.

Truthfully, Clay didn’t know where these feelings came from. He knew something was about to change, he couldn’t stop it either way. The story was already set in motion. 

What worried Clay the most was not knowing what to prepare for.

Clay was always prepared. He was prepared for battle every time he fought, he was prepared to lose his life every time he wielded his sword, he was prepared to mourn loved ones lost in the war. He was always one step ahead.

It felt like all the shreds of control Clay had clung onto were slipping from him, swallowing him in the unknown.

By the time he left his house the sun was bright on his neck and his nails were bit raw. 

Clay decided, for the time that he had left, he would make the most of being Clay. Living the peaceful life he had created for himself for a little while longer. 

It was a Saturday so everyone was out and about. The town square hummed with chatter. 

He saw George and Sapnap walking into Technoblades shop and he joined them

“Hey dumbass, where were you last night? I missed you.” Sapnap punched Clays shoulder

“You know, the usual,” Clay shrugged, George gave him a sympathetic smile, “So why are we going to Technos?”

“Sapnap decided that it’d be a great idea to see if a gold sword could break stone faster than a wooden pickaxe.” George had a way of talking like he was rolling his eyes.

“Eh, I needed a new sword anyways,” Sapnap shrugged, “Golds not my style.”

The ding of the door echoed in the shop as they walked inside.

“Hey guys, what are you looking for?” Techno glanced up from his book.

“Iron sword, Sapnap broke his” George called, already heading towards the swords section. 

Technos shop was small but stacked with gear. Clay guessed the only thing Techno lacked was netherite itself.

“So Techno how have you been?” Clay stayed near the counter, as far away from the swords as he could.

“Eh you know,” Techno shrugged, “Didn’t see you last night.”

“Huh? Oh yeah I was tired. Partyings not really my scene.” Clay sighed.

“Yeah me either.” Techno looked at his book, “Just the first year anniversary, you know.”

Right. His dad.

“Yeah I get it, I lost someone too.”

“Mmm…” Techno sighed, “They died for something great, to help Dream win for us.” 

“That's a good way to look at it.”

“Better than thinking about my dad dying for nothing.” Techno zoned back into his book and Clay pondered that thought.

When Sapnap paid and they left the shop Tommy and Tubbo caught Clay's eye. 

“What the hell do the demons want now?” Sapnap groaned, watching as Tommy waved them over. George elbowed Sapnap.

“Play nice Sap.”

When they made their way over Phil and Wilbur had arrived as well. 

“We have left over fireworks from the festival!” Tommy shined a toothy smile as he held up a firework.

“We were thinking of getting everyone in town to set them off since Clay missed them last night.” Tubbo motioned to the basket of explosives next to him.

“That's a great idea Tubbo!” George turned to look at Clay and smiled.

Clay couldn't help but feel an unfamiliar appreciation bubble up in him. He smiled and ruffled Tubbos hair like he’d seen the other do.

“That sounds really fun, thanks guys.”

“Fuck yeah! Time to launch these bad boys!” Tommy shouted lunging for the matches in Phils hands.

“Not yet Tommy!” Phil laughed and moved his hand out of Tommys reach, “We need everyone else!”

“I can get them if you want?” Clay threw out and nobody objected.

So Clay, filled with appreciation and warmth, forgot about the pool in his stomach.

First he went to Fundys, popped in the doorway and called him out. He went to Techno next, who just shrugged and went anyway. Clay then went to Niki next and then Bad and Skeppy. When he walked away from Bad and Skeppys house a breeze ran through him. He supposed he was so close to his own house that he could grab a sweatshirt. And so he did.

\--------------  
On his way back Clay walked against the wind. 

The strong gusts pushed him away from town square.

Maybe he should have listened.

Clay walked past the row of shops, fall leaves crunching under his shoes. His teeth chattered from the wind. The sky was bright blue, a sunny day. Maybe that's what let Clay set down his guard. After all, the bad things only happen in storms. Right?

So as Clay walked up to the field he was struck with not only the sight of his friends but someone else as well.

He had a horse behind him, it was large and brown. The man was on the ground, holding the reins loosely in his hands and talking to Phil. He handed Phil something and Phil's body went rigid. His smile fell off his face. Everyone around him went tense as well.

When Sapnap moved Clay could see the man's face. 

A familiar mop of tousled green hair and tan skin. Clay felt his heart give a squeeze. Clay was close enough then to hear his voice, which all but confirmed it.

Sam.

As if he could read his mind Sam turned to face Clay, Dream. 

“Sam.” Dream choked out, breathless. Sam only smiled.

Overwhelmed with feelings the first one that came to mind was nostalgia. Dream walked forward and gave Sam a quick hug.

“How have you been my friend?” Sam asked

“Well,” Dream replied, “As well as I can be. You?”

“I’ve been well,” Sam was like a hallucination, “Things at the capital have been...crazy to say the least after everything.”

“Well it's good that you're well.” Dream managed. His two worlds colliding like this made him dizzy on his feet.

“As much as I’ve missed you,” Sam's face tightened, “I came for bigger things than recalling old stories my friend.”

“Of course.” The pool in Dreams stomach lurched at the concept. Sam took a breath and faced Dream with eyes he had seen so many times before. 

“Herobrine's returned.”

And it felt like his world was collapsing.

A thick coil of anxiety wound itself around his throat, choking him harder than he thought possible. The nausea in his stomach crawled up into his mouth.

“That's impossible.” Dream said through gritted teeth.

“I wish it was my friend,” Sam looked at him with those fucking eyes, “He had a totem of undying.”

“That's impossible, his body was already dead. He had no totem.” Dream couldn’t rationalize this.

“His body was already dead when he came into possession of the totem but his soul was still alive.”

“So how…” Dream almost didn’t want to know. 

Sam looked like it hurt him to get out the words, trying multiple times to find his phrasing. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“How, Sam.”

“His body was dead by then...but Callahans wasn’t.” 

Dream was sure he let out a mangled sound. A whimper, something so pathetic he couldn’t remember. His knees buckled and he could barely stand.

“Herobrine has taken over Callahan's body and over the past year raised an army. He is marching on the overworld as we speak.”

Dream couldn’t hear anymore, he didn't want to.

Everything hurt.

His heart physically pained him and his fingers went numb.

He was pretty sure someone had their hands on him but he didn’t care.

Callahan had been alive all this time.

Trapped, controlled by Herobrine for a year.

A year.

A year Dream let himself forget and be happy and all this time-

Rage boiled inside of Dreams blood. 

He stood frozen as he let his emotions overtake him.

He was frozen until something shook him.

“Clay,” George's voice found its way through the whistling in his ears.

“Clay, hey. It’s ok. It’ll be ok.” George was in front of him like before. 

He shook himself out of his pity party and took a breath.

“Clay?” Sam asked before realization took over, “You haven’t told them.”

A few confused looks were shot his way but Sam and Dream ignored them. 

“I can’t help you.” Is what Dream finally said. Sam's jaw dropped.

“What do you mean? ‘You can’t help us’? We need you.” Sam stressed, desperate.

“Sam. My friend, I cannot help you.” Dream shook his head desperately.

“Who else can help us if not you?” Sam looked shattered, Dreams worst fears rushing up on him. He disappoints everyone it seems, when they find out.

“I haven’t touched a sword in months Sam,” Dream admitted, unable to look him in the eye, dutifully ignoring his friend's stares, “If not for Callahan I wouldn’t have even been able to help then either. I-I can’t”

“Clay,” Techno interrupted, attempting to calm Dream down from his obvious panic, “It’ll be ok. You’ll have time to train again and besides it's not like you’ll be facing Herobrine. Dream will do it.” 

“Dream is a coward.” Dream spat with all the self hatred he could muster. Hurt flashed across Technoblades face, but was shadowed by forced indifference a second later.

“Don’t say that dude, he saved us.” Sapnap gave a cautious warning.

Dream knew he was treading in dangerous territory, insulting the world's hero but he couldn’t give less of a shit. He turned to face Sam again.

“Dream is a selfish bastard who couldn’t fight a zombie if he wanted to. He’s useless. When it came down to it he couldn’t even save the one person he needed to. So Sam. I cannot help you.” Dreams self hatred coated every word like a poisonous icing. Dream couldn’t look at his friends so he just glared at Sam.

“Then don’t help me. Help Callahan.” 

Those fucking eyes, pitiful, encouraging, damn eyes.

“Sam I-” Dream gritted his teeth, a war raging in his head.

“Dream, please. Help us.” 

And behind him he could pick out Georges voice,

“Dream?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to say, I don't know if anyone's figured it out yet but I purposely change Dream/Clays usage of his name depending on how he sees himself at that moment. idk I just thought it was neat.
> 
> Anyway, now that the inciting incidents over with on with the rising action ;)
> 
> Love y'all <3


	8. Dreamcatchers in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the rising action begins...

“Then don’t help me. Help Callahan.” 

Those fucking eyes, pitiful, encouraging, damn eyes.

“Sam I-” Dream gritted his teeth, a war raging in his head.

“Dream, please. Help us.” 

And behind him he could pick out Georges voice,

“Dream?”

\----------

Dream ignored George behind him and continued to stare at Sam.

The pressure pushing down on his chest and anxiety welling up his eyes burned inside of him. He felt Clay rotting inside of him.

“Why would you want Clay to help anyway?” Sapnap chuckled and slung his arm over Dreams shoulders, “I mean no offense buddy, I know every man helps in wartime but this guy seriously can’t fight for shit.” 

“Yeah I think he’d barely make it five minutes without getting himself killed.” George shared a look and smile with Sapnap.

“You have to be kidding-” Sam tried to get a word in but Sapnap took over before he could continue.

“Listen Buddy. I don’t know how you know Clay but he obviously doesn’t want to go with you. So split.”   
Sam gave a pleading look to Dream, who stood frozen. Amazed at his friends defending him. Defending a person they didn’t even know.

“Please listen-” Sam started towards Dream when Georges hand stopped him.

“He heard you.” George and Sam shared two threatening gazes.

With one last look at Dream, seeing his void and frozen face, Sam got on his horse and rode off.

When the color returned to Dream's face and Sam was out of sight George and Sapnap turned to him.

“You ok Clay?” George tilted his head to try and catch Dream’s eyes.

“Yeah that guy wouldn’t give up.” Sapnap scratched his neck.

“Don’t worry Clay, war is something no one can pressure you into. You already served once, hell I don't even know if I’m going back.” Phil put an arm on his shoulder.

Dream couldn’t fathom this. Sam called him Dream, they all heard it. He almost fucking cried in front of them about going back to war. They thought he was just a normal soldier, how much of a coward did Dream look like now. God, he insulted Dream in front of Techno, he's an asshole.

“I- Why are you doing this?” 

“Doing what?” George made a face. 

“Why did you defend me without even knowing the situation?”   
“Dude that's what friends are for, plus you kinda freaked out so I assumed it was important. You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, it's your business.” Sapnap sent him a lopsided smile.

“We all have our things,” Phil nodded to the kids behind him, “You didn’t question how I acquire these dumbfucks so I’m just returning the favor.”

“‘Dumbfucks’? Fuck you Phil” Tommy yelled from the back. Which caused a crowd of laughter and a fight to break out between Tommy and Wilbur. They all looked so calm, well as calm as Tommy could be, and so secure with Dreams secrets. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

After the whole ordeal they decided to carry on with the fireworks anyway. The sparks of color dancing in the sky. Each rocket launched led to another gasp of awe and sound effects from Tubbo and Tommy. No one avoided Dream or gave him suspicious glares. It was like none of it ever happened.

But it had.

Dream felt a shoulder nudge him. He turned to see George sitting next to him, they were further away from the group and the sound of the fireworks made Dreams hearing fuzzy, he didn’t want to think about what it reminded him of.

“You don’t need to talk about it.’ George sighed, staring up at the night sky, “But just know I’m here.”

Dream took a moment of consideration, he owed him some explanation.

“Sam, that man, we met in the war. We were acquaintances I guess. We fought in similar military standings. I saved his ass a few times,” Dream recalled, George listening attentively, “My best friend, Callahan, was with me all the time though. We did everything together.”

“The one that he said-”

“Yeah,” Dream took a breath, “He died because of me. I saw him bleed out in front of me. My only friend, and it was my fault...So I have to go back.”

George didn’t comment but kept watching Dream with a strange look in his doe eyes Dream hadn’t seen before. 

“I thought he was dead at least. I let myself forget him, for the year he was suffering I was here. Letting myself forget. He’s suffering because of me and no matter how much I never want to see the Nether again...I owe him that much.”

“Ok.” George nodded.

“I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Ok.”

“He was my brother and I left him there. I have to go back.”

“Ok.”

“I owe him that much, I can’t just sit by and let him suffer.”

“Ok, then I’ll go with you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay but-” Then Dream reeled, “Wait what?”

“I’ll go with you,” George placed his hand on top of Dreams, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“George I can’t ask you to do this.”

“You didn’t ask, I'm offering.” George laughed like he wasn’t talking about life or death.

“George,” Dream turned fully to him, “You can’t come with me. It's too dangerous and I can’t protect you.”

George gave him a strange look, “I don’t need your protection, If I remember correctly it was you I had to save.”

“George, this is serious. This is war.”

“And you’re my friend. I’m not leaving you to die alone.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Clay, I know you.” George urged.

“No-no George you don’t understand.” Dream tried to get the words out.

“Then help me understand.” George put another hand on Dream's shoulder.

“I’ve been lying to you. I’m not who I say I am.” Dream said urgently as blue sparks rained down on the pair.

“Even if your real name isn’t Clay,” George reassured, “I still know you. It's the same you who likes peanut butter sandwiches and chocolate milk. It's the same you who laughs at Sapnaps worst jokes and who trains little kids because he loves to. You’re still the same you I know wouldn’t ever betray his friends.”

“George,” Dream strangled out a mangled breath, “I’m Dream.”

“Oh.”

“Oh holy fuck,” George’s mouth dropped open in shock, “Yeah I didn’t expect that one. I mean I suspected you defected or something like that but-” George ran a hand through his hair. He went from looking at Dream to the fireworks to back again. 

“So you’re like...Dream, Dream? Like the guy who killed Herobrine?”

Dream nodded cautiously. George looked at him for a second with an odd look and then burst out laughing. His laughter made George topple over, clutching his stomach. Big, loud gulps of laughter that got the attention of a certain Sapnap floating nearby.

Sapnap sat down abruptly across from the two on the grass. 

“What's so funny?” Sapnap pouted, “I always miss the jokes.”

George gave huge gasps as he tried to speak but succumbed to the laughter again. When he tried again George could manage words.

“Clay- Clay said he-” George gasped, “He said he was Dream.” 

Sapnaps head spun toward Dreams so fast it looked like he could’ve gotten whiplash. His mouth agape. He obviously took this more seriously than George had.  
“You’re...Dream?” 

Dream nodded and Sapnap waved his hands in dismissal, “You’re like...Dream, Dream? Like the guy who killed Herobrine?”

“That's what I said!” George gasped from their right.

“I’m sorry I lied,” Dream stumbled to explain quickly, “I just couldn’t deal with everything, it was all too much too sudden and...I’ll understand if you resent me.”

“Resent you?” Sapnap looked horrified, “My best friend is fucking Dream! Holy shit this is the best day of my life! Did you really kill 10000 men in one hour? What was Herobrine like? Where's your netherite sword or is that a myth too?”

Sapnap crawled over George's collapsed body to get to Dream, but in the midst of his questions he paused, “If you’re Dream then why do you fight for shit?”

“That's what I’m saying! How could he have killed Herobrine when he sucks so bad.” George had sobered up and their curious eyes bore into Dreams.

“I- uh, I haven’t held a sword since Callahan died.” Dream gave an awkward chuckle.

“Oh. That makes sense. Sorry.” George looked guilty.

“Who?” Sapnap looked towards George who explained for Dream, thankfully.

“Clay’s war-brother, died in the war. The guy ‘Sam’ mentioned earlier.”

“Oh!” Sapnap nodded in realization which turned to pity, “Oh. That makes sense, sorry Clay.”

“It's fine,” Dream shoved Sapnap playfully to the ground, “Don’t look at me with pity, I’m not the one who can’t open pickle jars.”

“Damn ok I see how it is, pulling the low punches.” Sapnap laughed.

“I haven't changed my mind by the way.” George added from his right and Dream gave a frustrated sigh.

“Changed your mind about what?” Sapnaps head popped in between Georges and Dream staring contest.

“Clay is going to go with Sam, back to the war. To fight Herobrine. I’m going with him.” 

“You are not George, this is bigger than some spur-of-the-moment decision.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? You’ve never fought in a war. I trained for years and nothing ever prepared me for it.”

“I'm not a baby, Clay.”

“That's not what I meant at all.” Clay stressed urgently. Pleading with George.

“Hey, Jackasses,” Sapnap intervened, “Listen, George you can’t be stupid about this ok?”

“Thank you Sapnap, see George you are being-”

“I can’t believe you would go to war without me!” Sapnaps wild smile made Dream want to strangle him.

“You’re both being stupid this is a huge and dangerous decision-”

“We need a team name!” Sapnap exclaimed as he and George ignored Dream.

“Nothing cheesy though.“ George made a gross face. 

“Guys you’re being so stupid, this isn’t-”

“How about SapClaGeorge?” 

“That sounds so awful I can’t put into words.”

“You guys could be killed-”

“Hmmm, maybe… Nether Bros?”

“You’re very bad at this.”

“You guys aren’t even listening to me this is important-”

“Oh wait! I got it!” Sapnaps face lit up.

“The Dream Team!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the all love I and this book have received, you're all too much <3
> 
> This is the update so many have been waiting for!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is definitely still being written so if you have any story suggestions please comment! 
> 
> Also If ANY of the creators say they are uncomfortable with this I will take it down :)


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